


Unintimidated Dawn Dish Soap

by woodlands



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 03:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodlands/pseuds/woodlands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>So it turns out that werewolf reflexes don't apply to Super Smash Bros Melée.</i>
</p><p>Or, the one where Stiles basically lives at their apartment and never washes dishes, and Derek makes the mistake of choosing Jigglipuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unintimidated Dawn Dish Soap

So it turns out that werewolf reflexes don't apply to Super Smash Bros Melée. They're halfway through their fourth match, and Stiles-as-Doctor-Mario is in the middle of a complicated maneuver that involves throwing multi-colored pills and jumping around a whole bunch when Derek makes a noise of extreme disgust and throws his controller to the floor. Scott and Stiles are too engaged in the battle to look up, but after years of companionable game playing they act as one, Doctor Mario and Princess Peach turning their attention to the hapless Jigglipuff which Derek has abandoned. "Ha, fucker!" Stiles screeches when Mario and Peach both manage to get kicks in before their victim falls, motionless, off the side of the arena for the third time.

In the kitchen, Derek makes a distinct snorty-noise. But he's also washing dishes, so it really doesn't count as intimidating.

"Ah, no, fuck-- _fuck_!" groans Scott, as Stiles up-B's him, just as the timer runs out. "Dammit."

Stiles grins smugly at him and then remembers that this is a moment for seizing. "Derek!" he says, "Derek, what happened, buddy? You working the 1950's housewife stereotype there? Can't play video games, must clean dishes?" He says the last in a robot voice, and Scott snickers, because Scott is easy. 

There's a silence from the kitchen, and Stiles knows it's because Derek is running through his intimidation techniques: glowering, baring his teeth, looming. But since there's nobody in there, and as a general rule Dawn dish soap isn't intimidated by anything, not even the toughest food particles (oh god he really needs to stop watching tv), eventually Derek has to respond with actual words. "This is growing mold."

"What you mean to say is you were intimidated by our superior Mash skills, though, right?"

"Yes," snarks Derek, "There are mashed potatoes still left on this plate."

Scott brightens. "Are they still good?"

Derek looks like he's considering whether to let Scott eat the food detritus on the plate in his hand, and Stiles knows that's it's over a week old at _least_ , so he pokes Scott in the side and says, "Want me to make chili?"

Scott grins openly at that. Stiles can't help but grin back. Things have been kind of weird lately, because Scott's spending a lot more time with Isaac, who doesn't really like Stiles. 

Later, after the chili has been made and the dishes have not been washed--eventually Derek always gets around to cleaning them, so Stiles doesn't see why he needs to bother--the three of them are slumped on the couch watching reruns of F.R.I.E.N.D.S because let's be real, it's hilarious, and because Scott has a crush on Monica, and because Derek seems to be too lazy to stand up and find the remote to change the channel. 

That doesn't mean he doesn't keep making huffing noises of supreme anger and sort of nudging Stiles every now and again. Every time he does, Stiles looks sideways at him, and Derek scowls. Typical.

During a commercial break Stiles slaps both of them on the knee and stands up. "Beer?"

"Hell yeah, is there any Magic Hat left?" Scott doesn't even look away from the tv to ask it. 

So Stiles wanders into the kitchen and rummages through the fridge for beers, snags a couple of Derek's super pretentious ones and starts back for the living room. But Derek has followed him into the kitchen, and he takes the beers out of Stiles' hands and says, "Come here."

"What? Dude!" Stiles protests, because he was actually seriously looking forward to drinking a little, and also because the commercial break is going to be over soon. But Derek has a firm grip on his wrist and is tugging him down the hall, away from the beers and the television and into his room. He doesn't turn on the lights. Instead he just heads to the closet and pulls a little box down from the shelf, turning it over in his hands before handing it to Stiles. 

Stiles looks between Derek and the box, his mouth slightly open. "What's this for?"

Derek tilts his head downward, like the floor's suddenly interesting. Which, actually, given the people who lived here before Scott, Derek, and Boyd moved in, it totally could be. Last week Stiles found an extremely dubious brown stain on the bathroom floor. 

When Derek continues not to say anything, Stiles takes some initiative and opens the box. Inside is a battered copy of Tony Hawk Pro Skater 4. "Uh," he says, "Is this for me? Did you buy this for me?"

"No," says Derek, "I found it in a dumpster."

For a moment Stiles is actually kind of inclined to believe him, because Derek is always doing weird shit and Derek Hale: Dumpster Rummager has kind of a nice ring to it. But then he sees that Derek is half-smirking at him. "So you bought it for me, is what you're saying." He squints. "Why?"

"Do I--" Derek stops, rolls his eyes, takes a step toward the hallway, "Do I have to have a reason? It was… on sale. It was like three bucks." 

"You put it in a box."

When Derek takes another step away, Stiles does something he wouldn't have dreamt about doing, three years ago. He steps in Derek's path and puts a hand on his shoulder. When the whole thing started, Stiles' defense against Derek was always words. Somehow, in the time that they've known each other, Stiles has become more comfortable with throwing his own weight around, knowing Derek won't hurt him. Plus he's been hitting the gym, hellooooo sudden biceps! Biceps he can use against werewolves! Maybe.

"Thanks, Derek," he says, instead of the tease he was going to go with. And in the faint light from the hallway, Derek's eyes glow a faint red, nothing serious, before he looks away.

"I saw it and thought of you, that's all," Derek replies, gruff.

"Okay."

"It doesn't mean anything."

"Okay."

"I don't--"

Stiles cuts him off by sliding the hand on Derek's shoulder up into his hair, tilting his head sideways for a kiss. He hadn't really meant to do it, but, he thinks, it makes sense. Derek's been, well, _wooing_ him, he realizes, as he sucks on Derek's lower lip. In his own quiet, grumpy way, Derek has been buying Stiles beer, taking him out for coffee, filling up the gas tank whenever he has to borrow the jeep to do some off-roading (but never washing it, which, _mud_!), making him _dinner_ …

Okay, so maybe Stiles hasn't really been paying enough attention.

But boy is attention being paid now, as Derek pulls at Stiles and rearranges him and slides his palms against Stiles' ribs. Stiles has kissed a few people since high school--college being filled with more people willing to tolerate spazzes like Stiles--but nobody has kissed him like this, like they've been waiting. 

So things are getting pretty hot and heavy, actually, and Stiles kind of slides a leg between Derek's, and Derek kind of makes a noise, and--

And Scott comes banging down the hall yelling "WHAT THE FUCK GUYS," which is kind of a mood-killer, to be honest.


End file.
